Four lawn bags later, we headed home, choosing a new way for fun. When we came to a river with no bridge, I asked GW to scout around for a fairy we could ask for help.

One came, but not the kind she was expecting.

Safely on the other side, we continued our journey pausing only to race a train down the road.

It won.
But we did too.
We arrived home satisfied in the knowledge that an ordinary Thursday had been transformed into an adventure.
Up next? The dishes!

This morning I broke my daughter’s heart, and I don’t even care.
That’s just the kind of woman I am.
Just what terrible thing, you may be asking, did I do to the poor child?
I instituted a new rule. “One in, one out.”
You see, our home is being fully overrun by stuffed animals. They have no natural predators and so have multiplied at an astonishing rate. Do you remember the old Disney film “White Wilderness”? The one where the lemming population grew to be too large so the lemmings hurled themselves off a cliff? (Sidenote: I have recently discovered the film to be a hoax. Here’s the scoop on that.)
Anyway, I have been waiting for a mass plush suicide attempt, but it appears as though it’s not going to happen.
Hence the “one in, one out” rule.
This morning, my daughter told me that she wants two more webk*nz so she can get some special online “feature item”. Whatever.
(Ok, I really must go off on a tangent here. The Ganz corporation is made up of evil geniuses. They have created a cute, fun, and wholesome website for kids. But it’s main purpose is not entertainment, education, or to develop creativity. It is marketing, plain and simple. The very concept is designed to make your little darlings dissatisfied with what they have and instead want, no need more, more, more! Tangent over.)
Anyway, this morning my child told me she wanted-needed more. First I (nicely) told her that I was not going to be buying any webkinz. Secondly, I (very sweetly) explained that she has reached the extreme limit on the amount of plush creatures this house will hold. For every new animal that comes in, be it a gift or with her own (ha) money, she will have to donate one of her old animals to charity.
Here is the rest of our conversation.

Her: That’s mean.
Me: That’s life.
Her: I don’t want to give away any of my animals.
Me: You don’t have to. You can keep them all. Just don’t get any new ones.
Her: (Tearing up) Can’t I just put some in the attic?
Me: Nope. Sorry, Honey. We have reached the limit.
Her: But-
Me: (Practicing diversionary tactics) Is that the bus I hear? Hurry and grab your coat.

So, what do you think? Was I unbearably cruel? What would you think if I told you I don’t even feel guilty?
Remember when you were a kid and you really wanted something? Like a doll, or a bike, or a snoopy Sno-Cone Machine? Do you remember dropping hints to grandma? Writing to Santa? Going to the store to look at it? Maybe even saving your allowance for it?
And then when you finally got it do remember how much you loved it?
It’s possible that I am being nostalgic for something that didn’t really exist and kids then really weren’t that different from kids now, but I don’t think so.
For example, my daughter does not know the joy of browsing the toy isle just to see what is there. I loved going to Bi-Mart with my mom and just getting to look at the toys. But when my girl sees something she wants and can’t have it right now, she’s sad. So she chooses to not even look unless she knows she’s getting something. I commend her for that, but I truly feel like she is missing out on something. That bittersweet feeling of wanting and waiting and dreaming.
My daughter has so much more than I did. I think it’s hard for anything to be truly special in the face of so much abundance. Her kid culture (friends, tv, webk*nz) tells her that she has to have more. One Littlest Pet Shop pet is no fun. You have to have the whole set. When does it end?
Ok, before you start blasting me with, “Well, where did she get all this stuff, huh?” or telling me how spoiled she is, please know that one-yes, I accept blame for bringing in all the stuff and two-she’s no more spoiled than her peers and less than many of them.
Even so, I am going to make a concentrated effort to reduce the amount of consumerism taking place in this house. To do more with what we have and not look for something new and shiny to make us happy.
Last week we took all of her broken crayons and melted them in muffin tins. The “new” big crayons were a huge hit. She thought I was sooo clever. (Stop. I am not. Ok, maybe a little…) It was simple and it was fun. More fun, I dare say, than a brand new box of crayolas. What we had on hand was more than good enough.
Maybe with the “one in, one out” rule I can bring that feeling into our Plush Wilderness.
If not, I’ll be looking for a film crew and a high cliff.

I know because my second grade teacher taught me a trick, a trick that I still use all these years later.
Ball your hands into fists.
Now look at them. Do you see how your knuckles make bumps and valleys?
If you assign each bump and valley a month of the year, in order, the bump-months will be the ones with 31 days, while the valleys will be the ones that only have 30 (except for February, which has 28-ish days).
Confused yet?
Maybe a visual will help.
I’ve asked the Girl Wonder to be my hand model:

I’ve always been amazed that this works so well.
And it’s not just that every other month has 31 days.
Oh, no.
If you look at July and August, they are both on bumps and they both have 31 days.

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1-Keep legs fully covered at all times.

Pro: Not only does it cover my ghostly white legs, I could conceivably quit shaving.
Con: I already have enough jeans, I wouldn’t get need to buy new spring clothes.

2-Spend some time in a tanning booth.

Pro: A natural looking, golden tan
Con: Um, cancer

3-Use sunless tanning lotion.

Pro: If done right, a natural looking golden tan
Con: It’s hard to do right

For some parts of the country you could add a fourth option: sunlight, but here in Oregon, that’s not much of an option. At least not in April.
I choose option three. And I have come up with a couple of tips to keep from looking like an Oompa-Loompa (1971, not 2005).
First exfoliate. I know they say it on the bottle, but it really does bear repeating. Use a loofa or those scrubby gloves in the shower.
After drying off thoroughly, apply self tanning lotion.
I like Nutrogena Gradual Build a Tan. They also make a different formula just for faces. However, there are many good brands out there. Look for one that says gradual or light tan, particularly if you are fair-skinned, like me.
Go easy on knees, elbows, ankles. Think about where a natural tan is darker and apply accordingly. For example inner arm should receive less lotion.
While lotion is still drying, apply cocoa-butter over it. (I like Palmer’s, found at Wal-Mart.) The cocoa-butter does not seem to dilute the tanning lotion, but it does help even it out. Because striped skin? Not cute.
Once you are finished applying coca-butter, wash your hands or you will end up with orange palms. However, unless you like the “white-gloved” look, you’ll need to re-apply the sunless tanning lotion to the backs of your hands. But how? If you use your fingers, you’ll set up a never ending cycle of washing and reapplying. So, don’t use your fingers. Instead apply with a cotton ball or a disposable make-up sponge.
I know sunless tanning can be intimidating, but isn’t it better than the alternatives? (See cons above.)
C’mon, do it for the kids.

Tip #1: Sit down with your travel companions and make a list of “must-sees”. Unless you plan to be on the road for a very long time, keep it fairly short. I’d suggest 1-2 attractions for every three days.
Tip #2: Map out your route incorporating the must-see destinations. Make a rough timeline, but be flexible. Don’t try to plan every minute. Build extra time into your schedule so you can stop and see The Museum of Medical Oddities (Philadelphia) or The Birthplace of Melvil Dewy (Adams Center, New York) as you see signs for them along the highway.
Tip #3: Speaking of mapping, if you are planning to go off the beaten path at all, I’d highly recommend investing in a GPS tracking system. Unless you like stopping to ask the locals for directions. We did not like it much at all.
Tip #4: Bring lots of distractions, for example:

• Movies, books on CD, coloring books, and/or simple craft projects are great for taking little minds off the long, long road ahead. But don’t give them out all at once. Your little travel companions will figuratively devour them within the first 200 miles and then whine about how bored they are. Try giving out one new prize a day.
• My dear friend Gina packed a bag for our daughter containing enough envelopes to open one every 100 miles. In each envelope she placed a simple prize. Really simple – like a sticker, a travel brochure with pretty pictures, a scripture quote, a pretty rock. It didn’t really matter what was in the envelope. Just having a little something to look forward to really helped the miles pass by.
• I also kept a secret reserve of fun snacks for those times when we needed a little boost. I highly recommend Banana-cream Reeces, if you can find them. (If you do happen to find them, can you tell me where? I can’t get enough of those things, but they are hard to come by.)

Tip #5: Know your limits, and those of your travel companions. Stop well before you need to. And a hotel with a pool after a long day? Heavenly.
Tip #6: Institute this bathroom rule rule: “When one goes, we all go.” Enough said.
Tip #7: Take pictures of everything! Not only will those photos trigger memories of the trip-of-a-lifetime, but they will also make an awesome slide show to entertain that pesky Amway salesman that keeps coming over.
Tip #8: Most importantly, don’t forget to pack your sense of humor. Things will go wrong, but getting angry about it won’t help. And later, you really will laugh about it.

Come to think of it, tip #8 should be followed a closely as possible in every situation.
I’ll try to take my own advice.
Ha ha hee ho.
And now I’m off to call my insurance agent again. Maybe I’d better put him on speed-dial.

PS: If you have any travel related questions, please leave a comment and I’ll get back to you.

PS: I fully intend to paint all of the dark wood in this house.
White.
Glorious, clean, white.
I even have the paint in the garage.
Maybe tomorrow.
Or next year.
I’ll let you know.

No. You can not stay up late.
No. I will not buy you that toy.
No. We can not have a dog.

It seems like I say “no” an awful lot. I know that’s its part of my job as a parent. I need to say no to things that might poorly impact Abby’s health and happiness, not to mention my sanity, but every once in a while I look at that sweet, imploring little face and I realize this truth:
Sometimes it sucks to be a kid.

There is always someone is telling you what to do, or more often, what not to do. Free will is inherent to all people, regardless of size, but big people have a way of making little people do what they say or suffer the consequences.
Although, for a kid, the inconvenience of being bossed around is generally balanced out by having all their needs met. No need to send two-year-olds off to work in the salt mines, though I know there are days…
It’s my job to be a bit bossy. And yet, sometimes I feel like I am saying no far more than I need to. Maybe it’s time I start allowing Abby a bit more freedom of choice. Within reason, of course.
For example, yesterday afternoon we were at the grocery store navigating the parenting mine-field called The Cereal Isle. Abby wanted Sugar Frosted Cake Crumbs, or something like that. I was trying to steer her toward the Kix.
I was about to say, “Nope, way too much sugar,” when I got an idea, a way I could say yes instead of no and teach her something along the way.
“Abby,” I said, “you can have any kind of cereal you want as long as it has 3 grams of sugar or less.”
She was so excited. “Any kind? Even Cookie Crisp?”
“Sure, as long as it has less than 3 grams of sugar.”
I showed her where to find the information and she set out comparing. We were both surprised to discover that Raisin Bran, at 19 grams, has more sugar then Fruit Loops, 11 grams. In the end, she happily decided on Rice Krispies and (fanfare, please) Kix.
It was all her choice. And I did not have to say no. Now I’m looking for other ways to say yes and help her learn to make her own good decisions.
But I’m still going to have to say no to that dog.

How do you say yes?

Next month my family is moving 3011 miles (those last 11 miles are a killer).
For the second time. In three years.
Crazy, I know.
So, in order to cut down on the number of boxes we will be cramming carefully packing into the moving van, I decide to get rid of all of the plastic dvd cases.
I also went crazy and got rid of the paper insert, because I know I’ll never look at them again.
I’m working my way up to tossing the “disc 2 – special features” as well, but…baby steps.
So I went from the above photo to this:


[APPLAUSE PLEASE]